


Copacetic

by gothjotun



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothjotun/pseuds/gothjotun
Summary: Summer ran away, Jerry’s out of the picture, and Rick has temporarily disappeared. All that’s left is Morty, Beth, and her abusive boyfriend. People have stopped questioning why Morty is so bruised all the time, everyone sweeps it under the rug until Rick comes back after months of being missing.





	1. The Home

Dust settled on open wounds as milky water laced with an abundance of salt glazed over Morty’s blood shot eyes. He trembled on the floor, quiet, reserved. Hushed were the thoughts trying to emerge from the fog in his head, the only thing keeping him semi grounded being pain.

Everything dying will be dead soon enough.

He could feel the life slip past his wrist, his heart strings plucking their last tender tune. The watch he wore counted down the cyclical seconds, hiding the red marks that tested his true time left here. 

It hurt.

“Let me die.” The boy thought, blandly, though his words held weight to them.

He could faintly hear Beth pleading behind the door, voices sounding far away, even though they were only a few feet apart. Tones were raised before the sound of a slap silenced the scene. Liquid leaked from Morty’s permanently opened eyes, his soft exhales shuddering. 

He wished that Rick was here.

Each time he was in this situation he had that thought, but brushed it off over and over. The old man already had enough to worry about, he didn’t need his stupid teenage angst. It really wasn’t a big deal in his mind. Well, what was happening to him, of course.

Morty stayed up crying every night over his mom. The only sleep he got was intertwined with night terrors and cold sweat, convulsions and mumbling in tongues. Glassy eyes meeting a pitch black ceiling as the jotun outside made up of stars decay fed off the loveless darkness he felt within. 

But eventually, the wall would morph into gentle colors, Morty aching to meet the dawn of a new day. He was tired of the restless nights, praying to any god that would listen for unconsciousness to corrupt him. The boy never wanted to wake up.

Morty would wake up crying, whimpering nonsense as panic seized his sweet heart. The only way he’d go back to sleep half the time is from passing out caused by over exhaustion, his body caving in as his mind collapsed like cracking pillars. His own Samson in the world of Delilah. 

But instead of plucking out his eyes, terror kept them wide open. 

Morty’s breath was shallow as he heard his knob turn. He could hear Beth plead for her boyfriend not to enter, to not hurt her son, but words fell static on purposely deaf ears. The boy looked up slowly, meeting a sneer that permanently molded the man’s facial features.

“Look at you.” He spat, disdain seeping into his sour words.

“Clean up after yourself, freak. I don’t want blood to ruin this nice carpet.” The man kicked Morty’s stomach, who in return wheezed loudly. 

“Filthy cutter.” He bent down, grasping the boy by the collar as he hauled him up eye to dead eye.

“You are nothing.” The man shoved Morty into the wall behind him.

He knew at this point that there was no use in pleading, and it would only make his mom more grievous over the troubling situation to hear his broken voice beg. Rhett was a fucking huge dude. His build was tall and strong, whereas Morty’s was small and frail. He could easily choke the kid out with one hand.

Morty’s eyes fluttered shut as he clenched his jaw, waiting for the prophesied punch that never failed to meet its destiny. 

And it came.

Morty moaned in pain, his left cheek throbbing before he was met with a knee in his stomach. He started to collapse to the ground, but the man held him up by the throat to steady him. Morty could faintly hear Beth screaming, but his ears were ringing, blood rushing to his hanging head as the man loosened his grip.

“Freak.” He repeated before he turned and left.

Everything dying will be dead soon enough. It’s the sense that ego death is the messiah of this hearse masquerading as a house. 

He needed Rick to come and rescue him. He needed someone to be gentle with him. He needed his grandpa.

And his grandpa needed him.


	2. The Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much for the sweet comments! It really inspired me to write more!! :] I love all y’all

Glassy eyes and plastic bones. Chink, chink, chink, goes the hammer, dust from the diamond, breaking the tears out inside of me. 

He tore his eyes open and let the salted water spill out. His irises, morphed, fizzling, pooling, popping vessels. Blood and water in his whites, the Christ child, the spear in his side. Thorns in the crown, beloved, behold the beloved, beloved. And he was beheld.

Through trembling hands, Morty looked through his beat up phone. There were cracks on the screen, and glass chips missing from the four corners of the device. 

He looked through old text conversations and sighed softly. No one texts him anymore, not Summer, not his friends, not even fucking Jerry.

Scumbag.

Well, he couldn’t be mad at his dad. The idiot had no idea what Rhett was like. But he didn’t seem to notice that Morty started wearing jackets or long sleeves after Beth’s new boyfriend moved in. He didn’t notice that Morty would tremble if someone slightly raised their voice. He’d flinch violently if someone raised a hand, he’d whimper if someone unexpectedly touched him. So Morty stopped seeing him on weekends.

Jerry didn’t care.

There were dark, grey looking bruises sat underneath tired, glazed over eyes. His fingernails were brittle, his hands chronically shook at this point, he fidgeted, he hoarded food. Morty didn’t talk to anyone anymore, he didn’t answer questions in class, and hell, he barely went to school at all these days.

Not because of adventures with Rick, but because recently he’d have recurring black eyes or a bloody bottom lip. He’d just curl up in bed, looking over old texts he sent to Rick.

**March 12th**

**8:37 pm**

_ hey rick. it’s been a month since you left. mom got a new bf, he’s weird. i don’t rlly trust that guy but idk. come home soon. _

**March 19th**

**1:24 am**

_ i’m bored without you. this guy really scares me sometimes. he’s nice at some points, then fucking crazy. are u done with the mission that i’m apparently not trained well enough to go on yet? i’m starting to get worried lmao _

**April 2nd**

**7:35 pm**

_ i’m scared _

**7:38 pm**

_ rick i’m really sxared _

**7:42 pm**

_ please, please come home . please _

**April 7th**

**10:34 pm**

_ rick i’m begging _

**April 12th**

**2:34 am**

_ mom wont sto pscreaming. she’s drunk, constantly. summer ran away two days ago. i tried to stop rhett from throwing a fit but he slapped me _

**2:36 am**

_ i miss yoynso much _

**April 24th**

**3:24 am**

_ i don’t sleep because of yelling, i can’t eat because he starves ys, i haven’t been to school in a week because he won’t stop beating me and he threatened to kill me if i called the cops. i think i don’t want to live _

**3:45 am**

_ rick i don’t want to live anymore _

**3:56 am**

_ i just cut myself for the first tyime _

**4:02 am**

_ blood everywhere i can’t make it stop _

**May 1st**

**10:34 pm**

_ please come home rick _

**10:37 pm**

_ do you even love me? _

Morty stared at his phone, all the messages he sent were unread. He sniffled softly, not realizing he was crying until tear drops splattered across the screen.

He looked down at his rust covered wrists. It’s only been half an hour since his last encounter with Rhett, and to Morty, it was his final interaction. Through shaking fingers, he typed a goodbye message to Rick.

**May 13th**

**8:09 pm**

_ this is it rick. he’s hit me for the last time. summer isn’t coming back and neither are you, are you? you left when i needed you, hell, you won’t even check these fuckin messages huh. i know you hate me but i can’t tell if it’s more hurtful you didn’t look at all, or if you had left me on read. well it’s okay. i could never love me either. it’s a poor suicide note, but it gets the job done. i’m sorry i couldn’t be better. i am my learning disorder. i am my parents mistake. i am just a filthy cutter. goodbye rick. _

Morty placed his phone on the bed stand next to him, taking his razor out from one of the drawers. He sighed, looking over his cuts.

There were thick, purple and white lines over his left arm. He examined the appendage for a moment, thinking of nothing.

There was nothing to say.

There was nothing to think.

It’s not like in the movies where there’s a long period of reflection beforehand, there’s no weighing the pros and cons. It’s just...something you need to do. You feel obligated. You need to complete this task.

Shuddering, he lined the blade up to his wrist, and started to swipe. But just before the final ritual was complete, a green portal shot through and hit his door, Rick scrambling out of it like a bat out of hell.

The boy looked up, frozen as the old man located where he was, then tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms up above his head.

“R-Rick-”

“Wh-Wh-What are y-y-y-you thinking!” Rick shouted, his face pale with horror as he examined Morty’s beat up face.

He squeezed Morty’s wrists as an emphasis, also a reality check as the kid just stared up at the man, dumbfounded at what he was seeing.

“R...Rick…”

“You- How could y-y-you do some-something so stupid?! You can’t just-” Rick tensed up as he felt liquid on his palm, the scientist retracting his right hand from Morty’s wrist.

There was red smudged on the skin, Morty noticing how his hand was trembling violently. Rick’s breath stuttered, the old man staring at the skin, slowly moving his fingers like he couldn’t believe the blood was there.

He looked back down at his grandson, who looked up at him like he had hung the moon.

“Y-Y-You came back. You came back. You c-”

Rick pressed two fingers against Morty’s lips, signaling him to_ shut the fuck up. _

“Who’s this guy I need to kill.”

“U-Um...ah…”

“Mortimer I _ swear _ if you don’t get your shit together I’m going to throw a fucking fit.”

The boy gently slapped Rick’s hand away.

“Y-Y-You can’t kill Rhett. He’s-He’s huge and-and mom would be devastated-”

The old man raised Morty’s wrist up, and with his free hand he pulled down his sweater sleeve. Purple and yellow bruises littered his skin, confirming his suspicions.

He trembled violently as he held Morty’s face in his hands, rubbing soft circles on his tear soaked cheeks.

“I am one, I am all. I am that I am and I’m a fucking god. I’m above and beyond his shit. I’m here to settle the score and there’s _ nothing _ you can do to stop me. And I am _ absolutely _ going to do anything to tear this fuckers eyes out and eat them like grapes.”

Morty’s face blanched. When Rick was irritated he’d yell, but when he was genuinely livid, he’d get quiet. He knew that the old man was about to fucking burst from wrath and make this man’s existence a mockery. 

But what Morty didn’t expect was Rick to crumble physically and hug him. He buried his face in the crook of his grandsons neck and held back tears. 

“This is all m-m-my fault.”

“It’s n-no ones fault but the person hitting me. Y-Y-You were gone, you couldn’t help that.”

“And I’m never leaving again.” Rick raised his head, his eyes wide and watery.

“It’s time to kill this motherfucker.” 

The old man raised his own inverted cross as he stood up. His mistakes paled in comparison to Rhett right now. And even if he had to pay the price like Saint Peter, he’d do it anyways. Rick didn’t care if he was beaten to a pulp and hung from the ceiling, if he could avenge his broken family members, that’s all that mattered. 

He quickly made his way through the door to settle things once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I hope that was satisfying :] tell me what you guys think! I’ll try to update every other day <3


	3. The Hearse

Morty had excommunicated past peers and suicidal ideation from his soul’s mindless dissonance. He had starved his spirit into faith, shaping it into a tool to be used for obedience regardless of how in tune his heart strings were. But it couldn’t last long. His hope in Rick had faltered, and he needed friends.

He cut his wrists like his abuser had cut into his confidence. His skin didn’t sting, his heart did.

The suicide of his emotions seeped into Morty, slowly filling into his gut. The void, it raised, morphing into salt water that would leak down his face at night. He kept drowning on dry land, his blood congealing into sludge that crawled into his throat, cradling his neck before twisting violently to the side. Upon hearing the crunch, the rest of his frame fell, and it fell hard. Crush the foot, and the body falls. 

It felt like earthworms were crawling into his flesh as he lay there, twisted, broken. But the irritation was caused by Beth’s constant nagging, asking if he was okay, not by the soft squirming the underground creature caused.

The dirt settled on his open eyes as flowered spouted from his mouth. 

Lovely, lovely. 

Until the roots grew beneath the tips of his fingers, tearing the nails as soft words came out past his tongue instead of hurtful ones. He was hurting, he was haunted, but he feels fine. As long as his flowers bloomed, as long as it was for the world to see, he was okay. 

But the flowers hurt, their long stems tickled the back of his throat as he felt like vomiting bile instead of petals. He didn’t  _ feel _ pretty.

He didn’t  _ feel _ anything. 

He had slept the night he found out his family hated him. 

The residue from the flowers sloshed inside Morty’s stomach, making him feel nauseous. He was sick of the damn flowers, he was  _ sick _ of the fucking flowers I’m so  **sick** of these  ** _fucking flowers._ **

…

…….

::;

———-

////)

@&;.....

He found that his flowers were made of plastic. 

4959

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


111

  
  
  
  
  
  


Snap out of it, Morty..!

  
  
  
  
  


The boy gasped slightly, pulling away from his dissociative trance as he heard yelling. Rick’s voice shouting over Rhett’s, the two arguing as Beth cried. He scrambled up, brushing his fear aside as he bolted towards the living room into a horrific scene.

Rick fought dirty. There were no guns involved, just fists and teeth. Kicks to the groin and scratches on the face. Rick had managed to straddle Rhett, holding his face in his hands as his thumbs slid into his eye sockets, pressing down as hard as he could as his fingers trembled. Blood gushed down Rhett’s face, Morty holding his mom as he shielded her away from the scene.

Rick punched the man in the face repeatedly with both fists, annihilating the structure as his bones broke. He reached inside his mouth, one hand pulling up on Rhett’s face while the other pulled down on his jaw. 

He pulled, and pulled, then twisted violently until Morty heard a sickening crunch. Rick dug around in Rhett’s hanging mouth, and tugged viciously.

Morty heaved Beth up, rushing her to the kitchen before it got worse. Oh my god. Rick wasn’t joking when he said he’d kill him. And Jesus, it seemed so easy. He guessed Rick had to fight well as his life was constantly in danger. Unholy rage also was on the old man’s side, giving him a large dose of adrenaline. 

The boy expected him to zap Rhett to another dimension, unseen circumstances applied to his abuser. But Rick was quite literally tearing him apart on the living room floor. 

Eventually, the screaming died down into gurgling. Then...nothing. Morty heard Rick fumbling around in the other room, a zap, and then footsteps.

The boy looked up at his grandpa, and Rick had never seen someone tremble so badly before. 

His mom was in a catatonic state, eyes glazed over, unresponsive as Rick pulled Morty off of her.

Morty was naturally speechless, I mean, what could he say? He just blinked up at the old man. Some would say he hugged Rick, but in reality, he collapsed into him crying.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, you’re okay.” Rick murmured in a hushed tone as he stroke Morty’s hair.

“Dad-Dad, what h-happened.”

“Fuck you Beth. I ripped his tongue from his filthy fucking mouth and left him  _ gasping for breath.  _ He choked on his blood and died. You’re welcome.”

There was silence for a moment before he continued, vibrating in place from wrath and hatred. 

“If you weren’t so fucking retarded and opened your home towards psychopaths, Morty wouldn’t be hurt and Summer wouldn’t have run away. You just wanted to get back at Jerry.” He sneered.

“Rick-” Morty tried to intervene, but the older man kept rambling. 

“I hope you know this is all your fault. I have no sympathy towards stupidity.” Rick spat, leading Morty away from his mom. 

“Rick...Rick y-y-you can’t talk to my mom like th-th-that.” He mumbled quietly, still in a daze.

“I can and I will.” He muttered, slamming Morty’s door shut and locking it. 

His grandson flinched violently, Rick realizing his mistake. He held Morty tightly in his arms, rubbing soft circles on his back as he quietly started apologizing. 

He then knelt down, looking Morty in the eyes as he gently gripped his arms. 

“No more fighting. No more shouting. No more slamming doors. No more bruises and bloody faces. No more fear. I’m home. I’m home. And I’m never leaving you behind ever again.” Rick promised, lips pressed in a firm line. 

Morty’s legs gave out, the boy falling to his knees. He wrapped his arms tightly around Rick, who in return did the same for him. They held each other for a while, peaceful silence aside from soft sniffling and gentle whimpers.

“Morty.” Rick slowly pulled away, sighing quietly. “We need to clean you up.”

“Hm? O-Oh.” The boy bit his bottom lip as Rick tenderly held his wrist. “Yeah. Okay.”

Rick stood to his feet, helping his grandson up as well. He slowly led him to his bedroom bathroom, picking him up and placing him on the counter. Morty slumped over slightly, inhaling deeply through his nose before exhaling through his mouth.

He watched Rick pull out gauze and some tubes of cream, as well as some cotton balls. He placed the supplies next to his grandson, his eyes half lidded as he breathed softly through his nose, lips in a tight line. 

“Hold out your wrist, Morty.”

The boy tentatively reached out, exposing his scar covered arm. Rick silently looked over it, his face expressionless. Morty could tell it was taking everything inside of him not to be upset and vocal about it as the boy noticed him shaking slightly.

Rick gently gripped slightly above Morty’s wrist, applying some ointment that made his grandson hiss softly in pain.

“Sorry.” He murmured, working more slowly and delicately. 

Rick gently cleaned Morty’s dried up blood, the boy watching him work. Neither of them said anything, but Morty briefly saw mist cover his grandpa’s eyes.

“This is never going to happen again, yes?” He murmured, looking up to meet Morty’s gaze. 

The boy opened his mouth slightly to speak, then closed it. He nodded solemnly, looking back down at his wrist as Rick was wrapping it in gauze. 

“Y-Y-Your hands.” Morty pointed out, clearing his throat quietly as his voice broke.

Rick looked down at his own bloody hands, sighing softly.

“Here.” Morty retracted his appendage, now gently holding onto his grandpa’s hands.

He looked beside himself, picking up a towel and wetting it with water. Morty gently cleaned his grandpa’s fingers, and when he was done, he dried them thoroughly. Rick watched him bandage his knuckles, his gaze flickering up towards his grandson’s.

“There.” Morty ripped off the tape, gently pressing down for it to stick. 

“Nice work.” Rick flexed his fingers, nodding his head in approval.

He looked up at Morty, noticing how exhausted the kid looked. There were dark under eye circles beneath half lidded eyes. His skin had paled over time, and he looked gaunt and underfed. Rick rested his forehead on Morty’s shoulder and sighed.

“I can’t believe this happened.” He muttered, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe I got you this hurt.”

“It’s- It’s not your fault, Rick.”

“You have every right to hate me.” He looked up at his grandson as he lifted his head. 

“I just...a-all I ask is f-for you to stay. Don’t leave again, okay?”

“Okay.” Rick nodded, blinking rapidly. “I promise.”

“Good.” Morty breathed. He squeaked softly as Rick hugged him more tightly this time.

“S-Sorry, that was too rough.”

Morty noticed that the old man made a point to be gentle. How he held him, how he talked to him, how he carried himself now. Morty never would have thought that Rick would care so much, but he did.

“No...no, you’re f-fine.” 

“I’m guna pick you up now, okay? Is that alright? I just want to take you to bed. You look exhausted and you proved that you can’t stand up straight w-w-without collapsing.”

Morty nodded gently, Rick proceeding to scoop him up in his arms. He slowly led Morty to his bed, gently laying him down on the mattress. The old man pulled the covers up, his grandson instinctively curling up in a cold little ball when he set him down.

“When you wake up, I’m going to take you out and we’re going to a f-f-fucking buffet. You’re guna eat the entire restaurant.” Rick mumbled, making sure Morty was comfortable.

“Oh, and you don’t have to w-w-worry about...him. His body is gone, I just need to clean up some things. No big deal.” He shrugged, but Morty was hardly listening.

“H-Hey, Rick.”

“Mm?”

“C-Can you...lay down w-w-with me?”

There was silence for a moment. 

“Of course.” Rick gently crawled next to him, realizing he could kick his shoes off as he didn’t have to run for his life anymore. 

He was safe, too. 

“I...c-can’t stop having nightmares...about...you know...him.”

Rick nodded silently, turning on his side to face Morty.

“You can doze off, you’re safe. He’s gone forever, a-a-and I’m here to stay. I swear.” Rick wrapped his arms around Morty, pulling him close to his chest.

“O-Okay. I’m just...scared I’ll w-w-wake up and you’ll be gone. L-Like a dream. I’ve had those dreams before.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear. I’m not letting you go, understand? I would never, I could never.” Rick hugged Morty impossibly closer to him, resting his chin on top of the kid’s head. 

He threaded his long fingers through Morty’s curls, the old man stroking his grandson’s hair as he quietly told him all about his adventure. Rick didn’t realize Morty had dozed off until he gently asked him a question, only to get soft puffs as a reply.

And for the first time in months, Morty didn’t have any nightmares. 

His dreams were now lovely, copacetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I hope y’all enjoyed this! Feel free to send in other story ideas! :] I really enjoyed writing this for you guys. Y’alls feedback meant everything to me, and inspired me to keep writing!


	4. The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y’all....this was supposed to be finished but then i thought abt kurohibiki and my fren chill and i’m like okay, i could add an epilogue. or whatever, another chapter maybe to explain why rick went missing. i have a lot more written in my google docs but i’ll post this little thing right here.

_ If sleep is just death being shy, then waking up is atoms being miraculous. _

Are you dead? Sometimes, well sometimes I think _ I’m _dead. You may ask where I went, and for all you know, it was a dangerous mission. And...well, maybe it was. And well, maybe the threat was my head fighting my heart, not aliens.

I’ve scrubbed my pale skin with a can opener I found in the passenger seat. I’ve grown out my hair, just to make you stare. I have a clump of dog fur in the middle console in the ship, she belonged to me as a kid. I have clam shell phones I stole from drug dealers because I’m so bored that I _ want _ people to track me down and pull punches. There’s a can of Cheerwine that’s 24 years old, I keep it under my seat. People have a rabbit's foot, I have my carbonated beverage. 

I’ve collected enough dirty pennies to mail you a love letter that says _ I’m sorry. _

You’ve adapted my left handed nature and my curls. What you lack in genius you makes up for in humor and eye twinkles. Your teeth are crooked too, your bottom set four pushing and pulling back in your gums. The left canine you have is twisted slightly and your two front teeth concave a tad like mine. 

There’s caked blood on my forearms, the rusted lid doing a sloppy job of making ends meet. Greater men have tried and failed, so I don’t feel so bad. But that’s part of the story I’ll leave out.

My pupils dilated one last time that night, my phone service finally reaching, _ will everybody please give me a little bit of space? _

_ ……….. _

  
  


_ Oh. _

_ ……….._

I soon dropped my own razor and looked for yours. 

That’s enough to make a man sober up, the suicide of a young mind. Of a child that’s _ mine._ My eyes went dark and I bit my tongue so hard it bled. Now I’m tracing your face, and sure enough, I find home in this hearse. 

I will kill for you. _ I will die for you. _

And you slept and slept until your under eye circles went away, and I was kept awake, and I was kept awake just to watch you rest. Your face filled out while mine thinned down. Color came back into your cheeks and your eyes didn’t look so dull anymore, whereas mine appear a stagnant, washed out grey. 

There’s beads of blood congealing in my veins, it clogs the tubes and ruptures my heart. Love is a disease that makes a man weep his mother’s tears. 

But you taught me that love is stapling a sign to my sternum that says “I’ll let you in”, and then teaching me the steps to welcome your warm presence. Tender are my touches and soft are my words, walking softly like a cat down the corridor of the house not to disturb your shaking frame. 

And what I still haven’t told you, is why I was gone for so long. And what I still haven’t told you, is that I didn’t plan to come back. I hid my face and found a way to get out of the house, only to come scrambling back like a bat out of hell.

I sit here sulking while my heart is screaming. My head pummels the organ viciously, nailing it above the door frame of my face like the forsaken Egyptians that Yahweh collapsed as a kid. The two try to become one after they were too afraid to face the other.

But because of you, they’re trying to coexist. But because of you, they have to. 

And because of you, I came home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please y’all leave comments or kudos n let me know what you guys think. my motivation to write has dropped down to like, 0% aaa!


	5. The Hope

He looks at his trembling hands which haven’t stopped quivering since he’s come back. Rick’s tracing his cheek bones in the mirror, noting how they jut out, noting how sharp they are. 

Sometimes he thinks he’s dead.

Sometimes he wishes he was when he’s reminded that he’s not. He sure does fit the part of looking it, however. 

This failure. This _ failure_. Leaves me vengeful like ** I am the heartless.**

But before he can take it out on himself, Morty gently takes his large hand in his little one, rubbing small circles on the skin. He doesn’t know what he’s stopping, he just knows to intervene. 

He doesn’t know why Rick only wears long sleeves. 

This whole time, he’s never asked. 

Morty comes sneaking into the old man’s room at night sometimes, the first instance he just sat on the floor across from Rick’s bed. He fell asleep there, only to be chastised by his grandpa in the morning for not waking him up. 

He’d come into Rick’s room to stop himself from cutting again, and he thought the old man wouldn’t notice, but over time, he did.

Rick observed how he rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, gently hitting his leg as he sat next to the elder. This prompted the genius to lay his head on Morty’s small shoulder, the kid immediately laying his head on top of Rick’s, emitting a small noise of delight.

They started touching each other in ways they never had before. 

Morty would tentatively hold Rick’s hand, who would squeeze the boy’s fingers in reassurance when he tried to pull away. The old man would rest his chin on top of Morty’s head as he sat behind him on the mattress, his long, thin arms wrapping around the tiny child. 

The kid would plop down in his lap, resting his face in the crook of Rick’s neck as the old man would read, an arm wrapped around the boy. They spent a lot of time together in Rick’s room, as Morty’s held too many bad memories. Eventually, but quite quickly, it became Morty’s room, too.

He was deathly afraid to stay in his own bed. He was too afraid of nightmares, too afraid of being left alone, because his wrist would pay the price if he did.

Rick then confronted him about it a couple months later. 

_ “Morty, I know why you’re in here.” _

_ “O-Oh…?” _

_ “It’s okay, you don’t have to run. I’ll stay with you.” _

Morty’s eyes welled up with tears, his bottom lip trembling before he threw himself into Rick’s lap, who held him tightly and kissed his face and neck. They cried softly, the child nuzzling his face into the old man’s chest as he held onto the front of his shirt.

The boy would frequently fall asleep in Rick’s arms, waking up from a peaceful sleep without any nightmares. He didn’t dream of Rhett anymore, not at all. And he had his grandpa to thank for that. 

But Rick, he would stay up and watch over his grandson. Morty’s night terrors went away, while his started to manifest.

_ You’re _ ** _sick_ **

_ I hate you so much _

_ You disgust me _

_ Get off of me! _

_ I never want to see you again! _

** _I wish you had never come back!_ **

Rick would wake up trembling, cold sweat on his neck and tears oozing from his eyes, mumbling in tongues as his heart skipped around in his chest. And Morty would be there every time with a concerned face, hands on his boney shoulders as he had tried to shake Rick awake. 

They’d look at each other in silence for a moment, prompting Morty to collapse on top of the old man and hug the life out of him. Rick would tense up, thin frame trembling, but the kid wouldn’t let go.

He was confused about Rick’s requests, asking him if he hated him, if he was disgusting, to tell him he wasn’t, to tell him he was needed. And of _ course _ Morty would. He’d do anything for him. 

He needed Rick to know that.

And so he told him. 

But somehow it’s like...the words just couldn’t reach his ears. So Morty asked _ why _ he needed this reassurance.

_ “It’s to remind me that I’m more human now.” _

_ “You always have been, Rick.” _

Watch fate die quietly before your eyes, then promptly leave it all behind. Keep the memory hidden inside your throat as you turn the tides of your own free will. Keep the vision beneath your tongue, because the brain searches the heart, the chest cavity first for bad memories. 

And Rick finds himself sleeveless one night as he’s getting undressed. Of course Morty just _ waltzes on in, _because hey, it’s his room, too. 

The two make startled noises, the genius trying to quickly grab his coat, but it was too late.

“Rick…?” Morty covered the bottom half of his face with his sweater sleeves as the old man stuttered in return.

He didn’t even properly reply, he just gently let go of the article of clothing, his grandson not noticing it fall to the ground as his eyes were transfixed on Rick’s arms. 

People talk mindlessly about day to day bullshit, that’s something that drove Rick insane. Just. Be _ quiet. _There’s always noise when there should be silence.

Now there was silence when things needed to be spoken. 

Morty blinked quickly, trying not to shed tears. The genius opened his mouth, but the boy suddenly threw his small body at him.

“Why!” He cried, hugging his grandpa tightly. “Oh my god! Why!” Morty wailed as he trembled in Rick’s arms, who was attempting to calm him down.

“It’s- It’s not even that bad.” He muttered, not quite realizing the gravity of the situation. 

But Morty wasn’t hearing him. He just continued crying against Rick’s chest, the two holding each other impossibly closer to one another. 

“This is...why I didn’t want you to...to get into this habit.” The old man mumbled awkwardly, and he couldn’t tell who was shaking harder.

The scientist just stroked Morty’s hair as he cried, attempting to calm him down. A long moment of silence on Rick’s end was interrupted as his grandson sobbed out a question.

_ “Can I look?” _

_ …. _

_ “Yes.” _

The boy sniffled as he pulled away, gently taking Rick’s hand, out stretching his arm as he properly viewed the damage. Rick’s limb was subconsciously stiff at the movement, his natural reaction to hide his skin. But he loosened up, and let his grandson look.

There were thick, purple and brown lines from his wrist to the crease of his arm. Morty turned over the thin appendage after a long look, and saw that his forearm was more haphazard in the harm. There were clusters of burn marks and random cuts that were shorter in length, but deeper. 

And for the first time, Rick didn’t know what to say.

And for the first time, Rick was self conscious, and ashamed.

And for the first time, Rick felt genuine remorse. 

He felt like choking on his inhale as Morty kissed his delicate hand all of a sudden, a personal sign from one hurt human to another, one that says _ I understand. _

The boy not finding him hideous as Rick would have thought was so shocking it made him dizzy. 

The genius knelt down on one knee. He gently moved his hand, Morty’s little hand in tact still, and moved it to cup his grandson’s cheek. He pressed his forehead against the boy’s, Rick raising his free hand up as he laced his fingers with Morty’s. The two sniffled in silence, just enjoying each other’s company for the time being.

After a while, Rick gently spoke up.

“I...never wanted you to get into this. It’s not some...stupid thing teenagers do. Adults do it, too. It’s not a phase everyone grows out of. Once you turn 18, it’s not like the scars and compulsions go away. It’ll stay and stick to you like a nicotine addiction. It’s a pain in the fucking ass, Morty.” 

Morty’s breath hitched softly as he then hummed quietly in acknowledgment. 

”...Hey. I have an idea.” Rick spoke gently. “We’ll keep each other accountable. If you ever feel the urge, come to me. And I’ll do the same for you.”

“Prom-Promise?” Morty’s voice wavered.

“Mhm. I promise.” 

There was another bout of silence.

“Wh...Why? What..? Huh…?” Morty whimpered, and Rick sighed quietly.

“I started when I was your age, actually. I was being bullied at school. I saw lines on my friend's wrist, and asked her why they were there. She said...she said she cut herself when she was sad. So I went home and I tried it, too.”

Morty was quiet with the exception of sniffles.

“I have bled more times than I have cried. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, Morty. People will always look down on you for it, your family will be ashamed. You’ll lose friends, and people will make fun of you. Strangers will treat you like shit. And everyone finds out one way or another. Always.”

The boy hummed softly, and Rick continued.

“Please just...just stop now. Don’t end up like me. I always wanted tattoos…” The genius laughed quietly, sadly. 

“But I’m just so scared I’ll never be able to stop.” He finished. 

“I still love you.” Morty choked out, now nuzzling his face into the crook of his grandpa’s neck. 

“I love you too.” Rick replied in a whisper, holding him close against his exposed chest. 

“You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you again, okay?” The old man assured, Morty nodding a little as he returned the statement.

“There’s no need to do that anymore, you have people who love you, Morty. You are so, so loved.” Rick breathed, and the boy’s trembling started to cease. 

“You stopped acting like yourself.” Morty interjected as the old man tried to continue.

“It’s like...I got better, but you...just…”

“Yeah.” Rick whispered, inhaling deeply through his nose. 

Morty was quiet for a long, long time. A couple minutes passed in heavy silence before he spoke up.

“I-I have something.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of razor blades, making Rick’s face pale considerably. 

“I...want to get rid of these.” Morty offered, suggesting that they both should lay these wearie burdens to rest.

“Good.” Rick smiled genuinely, gently taking the blades from his grandson’s small hands.

Morty was quiet again for a moment before speaking up once more.

“Uhm...if this is too much, tell me, but...why do you still…? You know?”

“Cut myself.” Rick replied flatly, and the boy flinched.

“I have a lot of regrets, I suppose. Like leaving you and Beth behind, abandoning my best friends, cause catastrophe whenever I go. It adds up over the decades.”

“Well...who’s your best friend now?” Morty replied after a moment of consideration. “Maybe they still...love you.”

“I hope so.” Rick laughed quietly. “Because my best friend is _ you_, dummy.”

Morty squeaked softly in surprise, a delighted smile gracing his cheeks. 

“Cmon, let’s get rid of these together.” Rick stood up, ruffling his grandson’s hair. 

“Hey Rick?” Morty asked quietly, his smile faltering. “Why...did you go away…?”

_ Why did you leave me behind? _

The genius grimaced, subconsciously gritting his teeth. He glanced away from the boy, settling to look at his mattress.

“I…”

He was at a loss for words again.

“I mean, it’s okay. All that matters is that you’re back, right?”

_ Why didn’t you check my texts until it was too late? _

Rick inhaled sharply as he felt Morty gently take his hand. 

“I...ehm...just…” He closed his eyes, fighting back tears as his grandson squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

“It wasn’t...anything to do with y- well. Yes. It was. In a way.”

“Oh…” Morty said in a tiny voice, letting go of Rick.

And that loss of contact came with palpable pain. 

“I just-” Rick’s voice wavered, so he cleared his throat. “I just didn’t feel good enough.”

The boy remained quiet.

“I felt like...I was hurting you and your family too much. That _ I _ was the issue, not everyone else, come to find out. That _ I _ am the one causing you the most pain. That _ I _ am the one putting you in danger. I...I know now that I...am really, _ really stupid. _And that hurts anyone to come to that realization. So it just seemed right to...to go.”

There was silence, Rick’s throat clicking as he swallowed. 

“I...didn’t...plan to come home.”

Silence. 

Again.

But it was with weight that struck with the force of an angel. 

“I planned to just…” Rick shuddered subtly, but it didn’t go by unnoticed by Morty. 

“_But_, but...I have changed my mind.” He offered nervously. “Clearly.”

“Wh...Will you leave again?” 

Rick looked into Morty’s apprehensive gaze, and smiled.

“No. Never. I would never...I could never leave you behind like that. I couldn’t take it if something bad happened to you while I was gone...again.”

“Promise?”

The old man held out his pinkie, Morty’s laugh being half a sob as he connected their fingers. 

“You know, you really aren’t stupid, Morty. I mean that. And, I’m really not that smart.”

“Clearly.” Morty repeated him, and the two laughed. 

“I will never, _ never_, leave you behind so help me _ god_. You’re stuck with me, I hope you know that.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Morty smiled up at him.

Then the two went out to discard their past pain together, and continued on the road to healing each other.

And the world to them became a lovely string of copacetic miracles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ain’t it funny that this is my second most popular story by far and I fuckin hate this fic. BUT, if I didn’t make it, I wouldn’t have met my girlfriend through it LOL. so I guess it was meant to be :•) 
> 
> sorry this took so long!! I’m super not satisfied with it but I have no idea how else to end it >:•p please leave your thoughts!!

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all I love hurt/comfort and angst so much I can’t resist shit like this lmao. Please leave kudos or comments if you guys want this continued, it would mean a lot and give me hella motivation!


End file.
